


The Price of Fame

by Yggdrastiles (hauntedsilences)



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Chilton is hella arrogant even when burnt to a crisp, Fire cannot kill his sass, Gen, It's actually a really sketchy talk show but he doesn't give a shit because he's on tv, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, The interviewer doesn't give a shit, that's all that matters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-07-29 03:50:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,733
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7669009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hauntedsilences/pseuds/Yggdrastiles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The esteemed Dr. Frederick Chilton is invited to appear on a talk show to talk about his new book about the Murder Husbands and shed a little light on how he survived them both.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Price of Fame

“Thank you for joining us, Doctor Chilton!” The harsh studio lighting emphasized the interviewer’s every flaw, despite being covered by makeup. If only makeup could work such wonders for him. 

 

“Yes, thank you. I’m happy to be here.” He said, voice a bit distorted around the compression mask that covered his face almost entirely. There were holes for his eyes, which almost looked normal with the custom-made contact lenses. There were holes for his ears, now just mangled pieces of flesh that poked through. There were two holes for his nostrils, one for his mouth which was just large enough for the skin they had grafted into lips to peek through. Freddie Lounds had visited him in the hospital not long after these lips had been attached. She had said it was a shame they’d already done that part, she’d wanted to donate some skin from her ass, so he’d always be kissing it. He didn’t mind if Hannibal decided to eat her after all. 

 

“Yes, well, you’re joining us tonight to talk about your latest bestseller: Murder Husbands: Courtship and Cannibalism, as well as your recovery from the brutal attack that took place last year.” Had it only been a year? It seemed like an eternity in the hospital, an eternity since the last time he recognized himself. An eternity since his life was utterly ruined. 

 

“Yes, it has been a long and...very tedious road.” The understatement of the century. 

 

“I can imagine. Well, about your book, what made you want to write another book about Mr. Lecter and Mr. Graham?” Besides the fame? The money that, no matter how much he earned, was always a little strained by the doctors’ bills. A fact that turned his stomach unpleasantly. 

 

“Well, as you know, my life was turned completely upside-down these past few years and I have, naturally, dedicated myself to analyzing the sick, twisted minds of criminals. Most notably, however, those of Will Graham and Hannibal Lecter. The more that is known about them, the closer we get to apprehending them.” Honestly, what was taking so long? How were they allowed to escape? Sure, some believed that they had met their doom at the bottom of that cliff, but he knew better.  _ Corpse or it didn’t happen.  _

 

“And you believe your book will be able to help with the effort to do so?” 

 

“Yes, absolutely.” If Jack would get off his ass and actually put some work into it. Will and Hannibal just weren’t a priority anymore. They were out of the country and other killers had made the news since. Frederick hated that it fell on him to keep them relevant. 

 

“Do you believe that the FBI has taken your book into consideration when trying to capture them?” No, because they had never believed him. They had never seen what he did. Not until it was too late, and even then...

 

“I have, of course, sent them copies to peruse at their leisure.” Autographed, even, let it not be said that Dr. Frederick Chilton wasn’t generous.

 

“Some critics are calling your book ‘obscene, ribald speculation’. How would you respond to that?” With an invitation to Dr Lecter’s dinner table. 

 

“Graham and Lecter are...entirely unique. A modern Bonnie and Clyde, of sorts. It is impossible to analyze their motivations, their pathologies, without also analyzing the perversity that drives them. Their sexual depravity is a critical part to understanding the sick games that they play. Apart, their crimes have no basis in sexual gratification. Together, however, killing is practically their foreplay. They repeatedly killed for each other in a sick parody of courtship.” 

 

A courtship written like a Greek tragedy. Except everyone else experienced the tragedy, while they were off happily honeymooning, probably in Greece. The universe was rarely fair. 

 

“Wow. I guess that puts a very different spin on “dinner and a show”, doesn’t it?” It’s a stupid joke, and the audience laughs on cue, but it’s really not that funny. Not when you’ve had the dinner, and been the show. Still, his “lips” curl in amusement. At least he hopes that’s what it looks like, it might just as well look like a grimace. Not much difference, these days. 

 

“Yes, quite. In this case, the show would be murder, and the dinner, cannibalism.” He deadpans, and the interviewer looks vaguely uncomfortable for the first time. Good. 

 

“We also heard that you had paid investigative journalist Freddie Lounds for the rights to use the term ‘Murder Husbands’. Why was that term so important for you to be able to use?” Because it meant he could rake in the residuals, despite having to pay her a small fee in advance. His lawyers had contacted her anonymously and she’d (stupidly) agreed to a flat rate, thinking he was an unknown author. She had called him angrily at least once a day since then. It warmed a part of him he’d long thought dead. No, not  _ that  _ part. It...was easier not to think about what was left of  _ that  _ part... 

 

“It’s catchy, for one. But also an apt description. If they have not married yet, it is because they cannot, legally. They may as well have exchanged vows on that clifftop, however. They are, of course, shockingly codependent, something I observed in them both, at length.” 

 

“Yes, you were briefly Will Graham’s psychiatrist, and you visited Hannibal Lecter in his cell, correct?” He bristles at the use of ‘briefly’, as if his knowledge is being trivialized. 

 

“Yes, I had more than enough time to see them for who they truly were. They were so adept at their game, however, that no one would believe me until it was far too late.” He says rather pointedly. 

 

“You tried to warn the FBI about them?” He doesn’t appreciate the skeptical undertone to her words. 

 

“Oh yes. At length. It worried me that every time I brought up Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham’s eyes would light up in pure lust. It was obscene, and already I worried for his mental health. I, of course, did the responsible thing and prevented Hannibal from visiting him.” 

 

“What about Hannibal? When did you first suspect something was wrong?” 

 

“Oh, upon meeting him I knew something wasn’t quite right. Of course, I could never imagine the depths of his evil.” 

 

“You consider Hannibal Lecter evil, then? Is there a place for terms such as ‘evil’ in the field of psychiatry?” Bitch. As if she knew more about psychiatry than he did. Oh he could see it now, oh yes, how she’d go home after this interview, and talk to all her friends about it. She probably took that Intro to Psychology class in college and she thinks she’s certified to have opinions. 

 

“There is no word for what Hannibal Lecter is. Evil about sums it up, yes.” He’d be sneering if he had the muscular structure intact enough to do so. 

 

“Wow. Well, we certainly hope that your books helps shed enough light on them in order to catch them.” 

 

“Yes, you could say I have a bit of a personal investment in seeing them apprehended.” 

 

“Yes, about that. Not much is known about the conditions of the attack you suffered. Could you tell us a little about that?” Shameless prying. There was a reason that the authorities had kept it quiet. He was beyond caring about the repercussions. He wouldn’t end up on Hannibal’s table, not now that he’d been fried to a crisp. 

 

“Will Graham did this to me.” Take that, Jack Crawford, you sanctimonious bastard.

 

“I thought the Tooth Fairy, excuse me, the Red Dragon, did that to you?”

 

“Physically, yes. His hands did the damage, but it was Will Graham’s mind that drove them. He set me up, he wrote a love letter to Hannibal with the charred remains of my dignity.” 

 

“Oh my. What happened afterwards?” What do you  _ think _ ? 

 

“Months of skin grafts, blood transfusions, corrective surgeries. Will Graham came to visit me once, not an ounce of remorse on his face. If anything, I believe that seeing me like that, broken and barely recognizable...excited him.” There was no harm in embellishing his own story...at least a little. 

 

“Excited him? Are you suggesting-” Her expression is delightfully scandalized. 

 

“That Will Graham was sexually aroused by my pain? Yes. I believe so. Not because it had anything to do with myself, of course, but because it was done for Hannibal. That’s all Will Graham has ever cared about.”

 

“Will Graham reportedly tried to kill Dr. Lecter.” Was he being interviewed or interrogated? Her insistence on providing a rebuttal for everything he said was annoying. It reminded him of the way Hannibal had done that, too. Asshole. 

 

“Yes, foreplay, remember? They live off of that sexually charged violence. Towards others and each other. Blood and sex.” This garners a satisfying reaction. The interviewer glances nervously to the cameras as if unsure if he’s even allowed to say that on television. She flounders with her next question, having to resort to looking at her note cards. Frederick feels a small amount of vindication, but nothing near satisfying enough. 

 

“Yes. Well. That’s quite an interesting theory.” She says, now turning to the audience. “And you all can read more about it in Doctor Chilton’s latest book, Murder Husbands: Courtship and Cannibalism, which is available at most bookstores.” She pauses for the light applause this statement before turning back to him.

 

He decides he won’t forgive her for the use of ‘theory’ either. 

 

“Thank you so much for coming, Doctor Chilton, it’s been a pleasure.” She says, affecting a tone of friendly professionalism. But he can tell she’s just as disgusted with him as he is with her. He’s not under any expectation to smile, but he tries to anyway, something more like a grimace as misshapen lips part to reveal teeth. A Barbie’s smile would be less fake than the smile she gives in return. 

 

“Thank you for having me.” He responds. 

 

“Up next, we have a lady who believes her dog has seen heaven, and a man who believes he received instructions from aliens for how to build a time machine.” The audience applauds and they both pretend to be laughing and joking with each other as the cameras pan away and they break for commercials. Frederick briefly wonders how, exactly, this became his life.  


End file.
